If Xiao Feng returned to his natal family too often, it would invite gossip. Most women, when they first married into a family, lived under their mother‑in‑law’s authority; whatever she said was the rule. By the time the mother‑in‑law passed away and they finally became mistress of the house, their own parents were often no longer alive.
People are mostly selfish. Meng-shi considering herself is not wrong.
But to say it's right isn't right either.
Xiao Feng waited until Meng-shi had left before coming out of the room, his spirits visibly subdued.
By now, with more ducks being slaughtered, the supply from the previous few families couldn't keep up. Zhao Ger didn't have the mind to think of other things. Troublesome matters passed through his mind twice before he shook them off. He still had to go find people to order ducks from! Where did he have so much time for lamenting the spring and grieving over autumn?
Fourth Uncle He's family raised many ducks, but other families also raised a few. After all, ducks were easy to raise. The village had many rivers, plenty of grass, and many field snails in the streams. Once they grew a bit bigger, the children could just gather some and throw them into the duck pen, and that would be a meal, not costing much grain.
However, unlike chickens, ducks produced more waste and urine, and were very smelly, so fewer people raised them.
After visiting several houses, he ordered over ten ducks, asking them to be delivered home tomorrow. On the road, Zhao Ger sighed.
When he signed the contract with Shopkeeper Yang, he only thought about thirty ducks a day, which meant four taels of silver flowing in. He was almost deliriously happy. After signing his name, he didn't think much more about it. Only today did he remember: where would he get so many ducks?
He could manage today, but what about tomorrow, the day after?
Ducks couldn't be raised in less than three months.
It was truly frustrating.
He went to find ducks, so Fang Zichen could only stay home watching the two children and casually cook while waiting for him. He could cook rice. Through months of continuous effort, he now could also stir-fry dishes.
Now he was a man who could grace the hall and manage the kitchen. Fang Zichen was immensely proud, his chest practically thrusting to the sky.
There were still two pieces of tofu at home. Fang Zichen wanted to fry them, but they were soft and limp, and he wasn't very skilled at it. He had tried once before; with one flip of the spatula, the tofu directly crumbled.
Xiao Feng stepped forward and offered to do it, saying that he knew how.
Fang Zichen stood to the side and watched. The child's movements—heating the wok, adding oil—were practiced and looked every bit the part. He had likely done this kind of work often in the Liu family.
Once the tofu was fried and plated, Fang Zichen looked it over for a moment and remarked: "This tofu is fried very well. However, if conditions allow, we should sprinkle a handful of proper scallions. Paired like this, it would be a feast for the eyes, nose, and palate."
Guaizai leaned over the stove counter, following his lead: "Yesh yesh, what Father says makes much sense."
Xiao Feng didn't understand: "Scallions, scallion greens, they... they also have, have proper and im, improper?"
"That's a must!" Fang Zichen said: "People are divided into men and women, scallion greens naturally are too."
Xiao Feng asked without shame: "Then, then what do im, improper sca, scallion greens lo, look like?"
"Improper scallion greens are greener." Fang Zichen patted his head: "Good boy, go pick some from the yard. Your Uncle Zhao should be back soon."
Zhao Ger hurried from house to house across half the village. In the past, his courage had been as small as Xiao Feng's—his personality was introverted, and he was afraid of talking to people. That personality had been built up over more than ten years of his life.
But after spending less than half a year with Fang Zichen, Zhao Ger's personality began to change, gradually becoming more like his. Now he was no longer fearful of strangers and could easily strike up a conversation with anyone. His status was different from before, so people often made a point of saying only pleasant things to him. Everyone enjoyed hearing compliments, and Zhao Ger was no different. He never grew tired of listening to others praise Fang Zichen and Guaizai.
When villagers came to the door, they always chatted a bit of idle talk first before getting to the point. Zhao Ger visited over ten households, his throat nearly parched, before he bought enough ducks.
While they were eating, a young fulang came to the door. Hearing that Zhao Ger bought ducks and needed a large quantity, he wanted to ask if he accepted ducks from the neighboring village.
Of course he did.
The ducks from this village weren't enough to slaughter now.
The young fulang explained that back in his natal family's village, every family kept a few ducks. If Zhao Ger was interested, he could arrange for his relatives there to sell their ducks to him.
"I want them. I'll pay eight copper coins per catty, but they have to deliver them themselves."
During New Year and festivals, ducks were this price; normally it was only seven copper coins.
The young fulang was very happy. After chatting a few more sentences with Zhao Ger, he said he needed to send word to his natal family and left first.
Fang Zichen had studied business management for two years before and was quite proficient in business matters. At night Zhao Ger learned from him. Now, looking at it, it seemed no major achievements had been made, and sometimes he didn't consider things comprehensively, but for a beginner, being able to manage a shop without him worrying at all, Fang Zichen felt there was already progress.
The shop had been open for some time now. How much money it earned, Fang Zichen didn't ask, but it probably didn't earn much, because Zhao Ger often complained about being poor. However, it probably didn't lose money either; if it were losing, Zhao Ger would have closed the shop already.
In the evening, Meng-shi came again.
She called out from the courtyard gate. Fang Zichen's brows furrowed intensely: "Why is it her again? Why does that so-called dog always send her? Is he sitting in confinement at home?"
[Liu Gouzi, 狗 (gǒu): dog]
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